


Wherever I'm With You

by miraworos



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Ineffable House Hunting, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, POV Anathema Device (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos/pseuds/miraworos
Summary: After Aziraphale and Crowley helped Anathema and Newt find their first flat together, Anathema agrees to return the favor, though of course, nothing goes to plan.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30
Collections: An Eventful Surprise





	Wherever I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bisasterdi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisasterdi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [There's No Place Like Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22468477) by [bisasterdi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisasterdi/pseuds/bisasterdi). 



> This fic is a gift fic for [bisasterdi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisasterdi/pseuds/bisasterdi/works) and was inspired by her fic [There's No Place Like Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22468477), which is a lovely fic, and you should absolutely go read it before reading this humble spinoff. 
> 
> Happy birthday, bisasterdi! Many happy returns!

_They smiled at each other, clinking their glasses together to seal the deal, and Aziraphale knew what they would do. They’d bustle about, probably bickering about one thing or another, until they found a space that seemed right to the both of them. Aziraphale wasn’t sure where it would be or what it would look like, but he knew it would feel like home._

Anathema Device adjusted her dress, straightened her spine, fixed her glasses more firmly on her nose, and arranged her papers and notebook in her arms so that all the edges were properly aligned before she took a deep breath and rang the bell. It wasn’t that she was _afraid_ of the angel and the demon, per se, but there was something decidedly unsettling about being in their presence. Most people, Newt included, felt uneasy if they spent too much time in close proximity. Anathema was able to ignore the vague prickling under her skin better than most, though. Her long familiarity with aspects of the supernatural gave her an added layer of tolerance for lingering near occult beings.

“Ethereal, dear,” Aziraphale said as he opened the door to admit her into the sanctum of his book preserve. Anathema liked to think of it as a preserve, since people were allowed to wander and appreciate the books’ beauty, but were never allowed to take anything away.

She crossed the threshold, the tingle intensifying as if she’d walked under a waterfall of it.

“You can read my mind?” she asked, more curious than afraid.

“Not at all.” He smiled guilelessly and gestured her into the sitting area behind the rows of haphazard bookshelves. She gave him a disgruntled look but took his suggestion and made herself comfortable while he started tea.

“Is Crowley coming?” she asked as she spread her printouts on the coffee table, grouped in categorized stacks.

“He’s already here,” Crowley’s voice said from somewhere near the floor.

Anathema frowned in confusion until a great, black snake thick enough to swallow her whole slithered up onto the couch opposite. She swallowed her terror, telling herself sharply that she was in no danger, and even if she were, she was hardly defenseless. But she was still regrettably vulnerable to human instincts, and hers were screaming at her to run away while she still could.

She cleared her throat. “Do you mind switching back?”

The snake snorted, but obediently began to morph into a more mannish shape. When he’d fully transformed, Crowley said,

“Afraid of snakes?”

_Rude_.

“I’m afraid of dentists,” she lied with a pointed look. Fear or no fear, the last thing the demon needed was for anyone to add to his towering ego. “I just thought it might be difficult for you to peruse the options I brought without the use of hands.”

“Uhh…fair point.”

Aziraphale returned with tea for himself and Anathema, and after handing her the cup, he sat on the sofa next to Crowley. Anathema didn’t miss how close he settled in next to the demon, their thighs brushing from hip to knee. He’d not so much as touched the demon in the few times she’d interacted with them after Armageddon. But it had always been obvious how spiritually connected they were, even across the room from each other. She supposed she and Newt would manifest a similar energy if they’d been together six thousand years.

“Thank you, my dear, for helping us.”

“Of course. It’s only fair, seeing as you and Crowley found Newt and me the perfect flat.”

“Is it? Perfect, I mean?” Crowley challenged, his expression doubtful.

“Humanity requires a seed of imperfection or we go stir crazy. So yes, it is perfect in its imperfection.”

“You see?” Aziraphale said. “I told you. They’re happy.”

“Blissfully so,” Anathema confirmed. “Now can we move onto the subject at hand? Making you both as blissfully happy in your own state of perfect imperfection?”

“By all means,” Aziraphale said, wiggling in glee. “What have you brought us?”

“There are about twenty options that fit your parameters…” Anathema began as she handed the first stack to the angel and demon, though it had taken a Herculean effort to fit as many of the often contradictory parameters— _cozy, exposed brick, spacious, character-filled, clean lines, period details, walkable, with a garden, quiet, near nightlife, covered parking, think ‘sanctuary’—_ into each option as she could.

“Now, I know that you both have…a special knack for being able to alter the material plane to fit your needs, so I mostly focused on location dynamics. Honestly, it gives me the willies to think of you disrupting the natural order of things in ways that may affect actual people, so I think we should focus on finding a block of flats that already suits your lifestyle to minimize your tinkering with other people’s lives.”

“I dare say, people benefit from our _tinkering_ , as you call it,” Aziraphale, sounding mildly affronted.

So Anathema crossed her arms and turned a flat glare on Crowley.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, I suppose you have a point, dear girl. Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

What followed was a frustrating and fruitless day of trailing the pair of them around as they shot down every one of her finds.

_“Oh, dear—this one won’t do at all. Why, there’s a window with a perfect view of the city skyline.” “What’s wrong with that, angel?” “Reminds me of Heaven.”_

_“Nope. Hard pass.” “Crowley, we’ve barely entered the door. How could you possibly—” “Smells funny.” “It smells like the heavenly bakery downstairs.” “Exactly.” “I’m afraid I’ve missed your point, dear boy.” “I would never see you again. You’d be moving into the bakery, not this flat.” “Oh, for pity’s sake.”_

_“Yes, ah, Anathema, dear? We probably shouldn’t actually…ah…go in.” “Why not? This one checks off nearly everything you asked for.” “Well, we may have…er…run afoul of the owner back in…when was it, darling?” “2009.” “Right, 2009.” “Do I even want to know?” “Well, we were taking a young Warlock on his first—” “No, book-girl. You definitely do not want to know.”_

Honestly, Anathema had been expecting it. Not that she’d officially predicted anything of the sort, but she knew how it was house hunting, having so recently done it herself, and more to the point, she knew how particular and how different from each other both angel and demon were. It was a miracle they still wanted to cohabitate after everything, but it was also very sweet. And whenever she got exasperated at their excuses for why a perfectly sound flat wouldn’t work, she reminded herself that it would all balance out, ineffably as it were, wherever these two were concerned.

“Thank you for trying, my dear,” Aziraphale said apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind—”

“Oh, we’re not done, yet,” Anathema said matter-of-factly. “That was just the first stack.”

“Listen, book-girl—”

“I won’t have Dick Turbin tomorrow, because Newt needs it for work. So you’ll have to come pick me up.”

“That’s fine, dear. Your new flat is not terribly far from—”

“In Tadfield.”

“Tadfield?” Crowley said. “Why Tadfield?”

“I promised the Them I’d go to their science fair tonight. Adam’s experiment is about ley lines.”

“Really? Do you think that’s wise?”

“Probably not, but he’s a kid. No one’s going to take him seriously anyway.”

“So are you staying with the Youngs then?” Aziraphale asked.

“No, I’ll be at Jasmine cottage. I still have the lease through the rest of the month, and there are a few boxes I need to bring back with me.”

“I’m not a delivery service, you know,” Crowley groused.

“I’m sure the Bentley can accommodate a few boxes,” Aziraphale tutted.

“Or you could miracle them to my flat,” Anathema said breezily. “Just don’t set them down on the cat.”

“You have a cat?”

“We have a rodent problem.”

“I could lend you Crowley.”

“Oi.”

“He’s very useful at that sort of thing.”

“I did not come here to be exploited for my extermination skills.”

“That’s kind of you to offer, Aziraphale, but then I’d have a snake problem. And a demon problem, come to think of it. And frankly, cats are a bit cuddlier.”

“I happen to know that Crowley is very cuddly,” Aziraphale said. Then he leaned in closer to whisper, “And ticklish as well.”

“Angel!”

Anathema tried and failed to suppress a giggle at that. The mental image of a ticklish, cuddly Crowley was too much. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, pick me up at eight. We’ll have a long day ahead of us if we want to get through the rest of the flats before dinnertime.”

Crowley groaned loudly, and even Aziraphale looked somewhat wan about the proposition. But then he brightened with an idea.

“I know. Why don’t we drive you to Tadfield now and spend the night? Then we could leave early in the morning without it being, well, _too_ early. Besides, I would very much like to attend the science fair.”

“Seriously? A village science fair? We had reservations at La Dame de Pic tonight.”

“Oh, the Dame can wait. It will be fun, dear.”

Anathema opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it. Not because she really enjoyed the idea of extra hours in the car with Crowley behind the wheel, nor in the company of the fusspots who couldn’t settle on a single real-estate attribute let alone an entire flat. But something in her gut told her to roll with it, and that particular feeling meant that her supernatural instincts were giving her a nudge.

So they all piled back into the Bentley and headed for Tadfield with a quick stop at Anathema and Newt’s apartment to explain the switch to Newt and for Anathema to get a change of clothes.

After a harrying ride past the now infamous M25, they arrived in Tadfield with none of the drama that had characterized their previous visit. Anathema stumbled out of the car in the school parking lot, grateful for the steady terra firma now under her feet.

Families streamed into the school auditorium with all manner of poster boards, strange concoctions, geographic models, and metal contraptions with wires poking out, teetering precariously in overloaded arms. Angel, witch, and demon found the Young family easily enough, as a small crowd had gathered round the table on which Adam’s project sat, and no wonder. Strings of LED lights in wild configurations were taped haphazardly to his display board, and they lit up the entire row of tables with their oscillating colors.

“Excellent work, Adam,” Aziraphale said, conjuring a thin volume on ley lines from the ether and handing it to him as a gift. “Knowledge is always worth the effort of pursuit. A certain demon taught me that.”

“Mr. Aziraphale! Mr. Crowley! You came!”

“Anathema brought us,” Crowley said with a crooked smile.

“Come see mine!” Pepper said, tugging on Anathema’s sleeve. Anathema complied, and Aziraphale and Crowley followed politely behind.

The rest of the fair passed noisily and quickly, and Anathema was more than ready to return to the cottage after such a full day. She was almost eager to get back into Crowley’s car, though that sentiment lasted all of five seconds, as he peeled sharply away from the curb.

Her legs and stomach were wobbly again by the time they pulled up and parked in front of the cottage. The sun was nearly set by then, and the orange glow bathing the garden gave Anathema a sharp sense of nostalgia. She would miss the old girl, of course, but London was where she needed to be. At least until she and Newt figured themselves out.

“This is the same place we dropped you off that night you ran into me?” Crowley asked as he levered his long limbs out of the car with sinuous grace.

“The very one,” Anathema said as she opened the garden gate.

“Looks different,” he said, his tone thoughtful. Then he wandered off onto the south lawn, examining the hedge roses.

“It’s beautiful, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he stood next to her.

“Thank you?” Anathema said. “I mean, it’s drafty in winter and the eaves leak after a rain…”

“It’s perfect…” Aziraphale breathed and preceded her through the door.

Then finally Anathema twigged to what was happening, and she hurried in after the angel.

“Are you joking? This place has _none_ of the things on your list! Either of your lists!”

“Hmmm?”

But the dreamy look on Aziraphale’s face said it all. And she’d bet her best cauldron that Crowley was wandering the grounds with the same look.

“Waste of an entire day,” she muttered to herself as she stomped into the kitchen and rummaged through a drawer for the landlord’s business card. Once located, she handed it to Aziraphale with a reproachful look. He took it and patted her hand absently.

“Yes, dear. Thank you.”

Later that night, after all the buying and moving arrangements had been miraculously made, the three of them toasted the decision with a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape that she’d found nestled in a mysterious wine cellar that hadn’t existed when she’d lived there.

“I still don’t understand,” she said after a fortifying sip of wine. “This place is very nearly the opposite of everything you said you wanted.”

“On the contrary, this place has everything we asked for. You can’t deny that it is cozy,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

“—with exposed brick—” Crowley added.

“—spacious enough, with a miracle or two—”

“—walkable, shops right down the street, and our own garden—”

“—quiet as a church—”

“—and the Bentley can have the garage to itself, for a change.”

“You see, my dear?” Aziraphale said with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s the perfect sanctuary.”

“But…what about the nightlife?” she asked.

Crowley pulled back the curtain to show a garden full of fireflies and a raccoon rifling through the bins.

“Plenty of nightlife,” Crowley said with a grin, dropping the curtain back in place. “Besides, what good’s the Bentley if it can’t drive us impossibly fast back to London for the occasional dinner out?”

Anathema shook her head, bewildered. “Alright, then. It seems like my work here is done.” Then she bid them good night and climbed the stairs to her old room for her last night in Jasmine cottage.

As she drifted off to sleep, she had the strangest dream. Aziraphale and Crowley were out in the garden, but it wasn’t the garden around Jasmine cottage. There was a wall, large enough for people to stand on. Aziraphale wore a white robe, and Crowley black, the demon’s hair spilling down his back like a red waterfall.

And their wings, which Anathema had never seen before, waved unfurled like feathered banners, heralding their allegiance. Only…one of Aziraphale’s wings bent outward protectively over Crowley’s head, as the first drops of rain fell from a cloud-filled sky. And one of Crowley’s wings curved just around Aziraphale’s back, as if ready to catch him were he to fall.

And as Anathema watched them through the curtain of dreams, not recalling anything about what would eventually happen, she somehow knew they’d make it. Whatever that meant.


End file.
